


from our own separate sides

by kendrasaunders



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Dry Humping, F/M, drug mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendrasaunders/pseuds/kendrasaunders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there is only one bed in the motel room. this is nothing new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from our own separate sides

“There’s one bed,” Seth announces, like this is anything like a surprise anymore.

“Side closest to the bathroom,” Kate grumbles. Her boots drag mud onto the grainy carpet. Passing out seems like it’s going to be a mercy, at this point.

“Good call,” Seth says.

She usually takes the side by the windows. But this is the first floor.  And Seth is something of an anxious wreck, like a lot of the time. Mostly over her. Mostly over her body.

Sometimes that last one is literal.

There’s been a lot of first floor motels these past couple of weeks. It’s better than sleeping in a stolen car again, so whatever.

In a car, she has to sleep on top of Seth, sprawled out in the tiniest possible backseat with her head on his chest. 

And if they wake up with his hand curled into her hair and her nose against his neck, it’s just part of circumstance.

Beds are usually bigger. Separate beds are better.

They don’t like being so close to each other. She knows that much. For one, they can only shower every other day, usually.

And if Seth actually just smells kind of masculine and like aftershave, which he puts on not to shave with but to compensate for the lack of showering upkeep-

Well. She obviously isn’t against it. He could smell worse.

And his beard could be scratchier, if she’s splitting hairs. Not that she touches it a lot. Because his face has only ever ended up on the back of her neck once or twice, in the middle of the night. So it’s got to be a pretty comfortable beard, since it doesn’t wake her. 

It’s not until the morning, or the late afternoon, when she’ll feel the weight of his arm slung around her waist.

He’s got heavy limbs. A lot of muscle. And she knows, inherently, that his tattoo is weightless.

 But she can feel it bearing down on her, whenever she’s curled up against him.

Accidentally.

 

She drops her bag by the nightstand. “How long are we going to be here for?”

“Dunno,” he says.

“Do we need to go out again?” she says.

He shifts his bag on his shoulder. Glances at it.

She’s glad they can talk like this.

“No,” he says. “I’m good.”

“I need a shower,” she says.

“All yours,” he replies. 

She wonders when he decided to stop offering to check for bugs.

She wonders if he’ll be able to shoot up without her help.

 

She’s gotten used to lukewarm water.

She’s gotten used to not opening her mouth in the shower.

She’s even adjusted to mattress with springs that poke into her thighs. Scratchy sheets. Seth Gecko talking in his sleep.

It’s not really surviving. But there’s something to it.

Sometimes, she’s almost positive she’s in love with him.

But then he’ll stare at her, doped-up, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

And she thinks, I could never love that. I could never do that to myself.

But she does. She has.

She runs down her stomach. Against her inner thighs, over her knees.

She rinses herself. Cups her hand against her body.

There’s this morbid curiosity she has. Resting in between her legs.

She wonders if sharing a bed-

She wonders-

She’s a virgin. She’s a virgin, and sharing a bed doesn’t change that.

It’s just like a church sleepover, but.

God. She’s never been close to anyone like that. She...

They’ve done things.

Not. They haven’t had sex. He doesn’t want to have sex with her. That’s just a fact, and she pretends it doesn’t insult her.

Because it shouldn’t. But it does.

 

 

But there was this time they went to sleep.

One bed. First floor motel room.

And it had been fine. Completely fine, until the early morning. The hours when it’s still dark, when they should’ve been asleep.

And she’d woken up, for some reason. Woken up hornier than she’d ever been in her entire fucking life, and absolutely, totally mortified for it.

She and Seth-

They don’t mean to sleep so close. It just happens. And he’d been right up against her, hard between her legs.

They had clothes on. He’d had his boxers, and she’d had her underwear.

Totally chaste. Totally accidental.

She’d been feeling stupid. And reckless. And tired. So, so tired.

At some point, he grabbed her hips.

At another, he nipped the back of her neck.

Her hand ended up inside her underwear, somehow.

And then she’d slipped a finger inside herself, and Seth had come with this horrible, wonderful throaty growl of her name and-

And-

Do orgasms count? She’d made him come. Is she still a virgin?

They share a bed. Sometimes he’ll rub her clit, if she asks.

But he won’t have sex with her.

She wonders if it’s still in tact.

Someone had told her once that it didn’t work like that. That she could... stretch, but not tear.

Not like she ever talked to her mom about it.

She steps out of the shower.

 

She’s drying her hair. She had the decency to put her underwear back on.

It’s kind of stupid. To be decent, still.

She’s barely even a virgin anymore.

“You high?” she asks. And she hates that it’s so casual. And she hates that she can’t do anything about it.

He’s on his side, facing the window. “No.”

If he were, he wouldn’t have said anything at all.  So at least there’s that.

“Great,” she says.

It’s late enough that it’s dark out. So that’s something.

“You hungry?” she asks.

“No.”

“Me neither,” she lies, and immediately regrets it.

She throws the towel over the bathroom door.

Approaches the bed.

Sneaks under the covers.

This is how it starts. Always.

Back to back. Like they won’t move together.

Like she can’t feel the pull between their hands or their spines.

But not their hearts.

But definitely between her legs. Again. Over and over, every night.

“I’m tired, Seth,” she says.

She can feel him sigh against the mattress. “I know, Katie.”


End file.
